


The Smuttiest Smut Show on Earth

by Snarkling



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Multi, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkling/pseuds/Snarkling
Summary: He grabbed her and kissed her passionately before he noticed how well lit the room was.  He drew backand gasped, seeing her face in full light.  He took in the pallor, the lank mousy brown hair.  He stared at the under eye circles, the jutting bones on her malnourished frame.“My mistake, I was looking for the Sun Summoner, not a heroin addict,” the Darkling said, embarrassed.  “Apologies for disturbing you, ma'am,” he said courteously.  “I'll show myself out,” he turned to leave.“Wait!  It's me, Alina,” she said, confused.“Really?  Oh, okay,” the Darkling said with forced cheerfulness.  Saints, he thought.  He remembered their passionate make out session earlier in the evening.  That sitting room must have been very, very dark.
Relationships: Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is a parody of the Darkling going to Alina's room the night of the Winter Fete.
> 
> Chapter two is more of a parody of the whole S&B series.
> 
> It's worth noting I only make fun of things I love which is why I'm parodying the Grishaverse and fan fic in general here. 
> 
> Apologies to the very fine, very attractive women of Seattle.
> 
> PS: And the title is total click bait (it totally worked, yes?). No actual smut, just plenty of implied smut in chapter two.

Scene: The Little Palace, night of the Winter Fete.

Alina sat on her bed, sobbing inconsolably. “Maaaaaallllllllll,” she wailed, thinking of their terrible argument.

“I will always looove yoou, you complete me, you had me at hellooo,” she ugly cried desperately, scrolling through Mal's Facebook and Instagram accounts.

Suddenly, she heard voices outside her door.

It was the Darkling's smooth voice. “No, mother, I got here first.” She could hear tussling in the hall.

She sniffed miserably and wiped her face. She strode to the door and opened it.

A slightly bloodied Darkling stood on the other side, waiting expectantly. There was an angry Baghra standing behind him, leaning against the wall. She was flipping them both off.

“What's she so angry about?” Alina asked, bemused.

“Oh, nothing, probably menopause.” He swept past her into the room and she closed the door.

He grabbed her and kissed her passionately before he noticed how well lit the room was. He drew back and gasped, seeing her face in full light. He took in the pallor, the lank mousy brown hair. He stared at the under eye circles, the bones jutting out of her malnourished frame.

“My mistake, I was looking for the Sun Summoner, not a heroin addict,” the Darkling said, embarrassed. “Apologies for disturbing you, ma'am,” he said courteously. “I'll show myself out,” he turned to leave.

“Wait! It's me, Alina,” she said, confused.

“ _Really_? Oh, okay,” the Darkling said with forced cheerfulness. _Saints,_ he thought. He remembered their passionate make out session earlier in the evening. That sitting room must have been very, very dark.

“Lets do something about the light in here, then,” he said, clapping his hands together and ushering in a wave of darkness.

“Much better,” he murmured, kissing her again.

“No, wait, I want to look at you.” Alina summoned her power, bathing them both in the harsh, unforgiving light of the sun. He winced.

The Darkling didn't blame her for wanting to look at him though. “Fine,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket of his kefta. “I'm going to need you to wear this, then,” he withdrew a paper mask with Zoya's face printed on it.

“Absolutely not,” she spat.

“How about this one?” It was Genya this time.

“No,” she said flatly.

Cursing, he kept digging into his kefta. “Perhaps this one,” he said hopefully, drawing out his last mask. It was Ivan's handsome face.

“I can't believe you,”she said.

“Fine,” he said again. “Do you have any markers?” He was holding a blank piece of paper up.

Alina brightened. “Of course I do! I was using them to write 'Mal hearts Alina 4ever' all over my algebra notebook.” She showed him her collection. He picked up a black Sharpie.

He was hastily scrawling something on the paper. “Yellow,” he barked, holding out his hand. She handed the marker to him.

“Will you wear this?” He held up the drawing he'd made. It was a cartoon sun with a smiley face.

She threw up her hands this time. “I can't help how I was written.”

“I know,” he said sulkily.

She bristled. “I'm not actually unattractive,” she said defensively. “Just fantasy book unattractive.”

“What?”

“No heroine in a fantasy novel ever has brunette hair or brown eyes,” she pointed to her drab, unremarkable locks and her horrifyingly common eye color. The Darkling suppressed a shudder.

“Fantasy book heroines typically have red, gold or some other exotic colored hair,” Alina said. “Dark hair is attractive as long as it's black or at least described _as_ 'dark' or 'raven,' certainly never _brown_." She sighed. "Same with eye color. Apparently eyes as blue as Nordic fjords or green as emeralds are a prerequisite for dubiously explained magical powers.”

“And another thing that annoys me," Alina continued. "Ever notice that all the so-called _unattractive_ heroines are almost always described as skinny or bony? And pale. They're never fat or have bad skin or missing teeth.”

The Darkling nodded his head in agreement, grasping the point she was trying to make. “And we both know that Western society finds young, thin white girls _so_ unattractive.”

“Exactly. So like, in reality, I'm an L.A. Four and a Seattle Eight. But in a world where people are ethereally beautiful, with my brown hair and eyes, I'm a Grishaverse Two.”

“Negative Two,” he muttered and she kicked him in the shin.

“Ow,” he said, hopping on one foot.

“Have you skipped ahead to the last book?” she whispered conspiratorially. “Do you know there's a love scene where I'm described as having skin as thin and dry as an onion?”

“Oh, I know,” he groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “Even I felt sorry for Mal in that scene.”

Alina shook herself. “Our pillow talk needs some work. Where were we?” She pursed her lips again, waiting for his next kiss.

He stared at her. _Okay, just think of Ravka,_ he told himself, wishing he'd brought his bottle of kvas with him.

He hesitated. He just needed more time, he thought desperately. Like a thousand more pages.

“Alina, I just remembered, I forgot to tell you something important," he said, trying to extricate her hands from under his kefta.

"Hmm?" she said, hooking a leg over his hip.

He pushed her gently away. "I told you all about the Cut but I may have forgotten to mention I have the Clap. And I do have a piercing headache,” he added for good measure. “Perhaps you should talk to Baghra.”

“Whatever for?”

“No idea,” he said, feigning innocence. “But here, let me help you pack.”

“I don't understand...” she murmured.

“It's fine, my pet,” he said brightly. “I just think it might be better if we followed the original story line, is all. You know, you fleeing into the dead of night.”

“Oh,” she said, understanding. “You want the thrill of the chase.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, jamming her stuffed animals into her Hello Kitty luggage. “Off you go, I'll escort you to Baghra's hut.”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. “I guess it's probably for the best. You'd wreck me for other men, if the fan fics are to be believed. And Mal _is_ my One True Love.”

“Oh,” he said in mock surprise. “The story has been really subtle about that. Seriously, as soon as I saw you two were childhood friends, I knew I was dead in the water.”

They walked in companionable silence to Baghra's hut.

“At least they got a hot girl to play you in the Netflix series,” he offered.

“Yeah, they did,” Alina agreed. “I wonder if they'll try to make her 'Hollywood' ugly though.”

“Oh, you mean like pull her hair back in a pony tail, give her some frumpy clothes and wire rimmed glasses?”

“Exactly.”

The Darkling thought about that. “Still be hot.”

“What do you think about Ben Barnes?”

“I'm not sure he has the sinister charisma to play me, but then again, I've only ever seen his work on the first season of _The Punisher._ Which wasn't like the best show. So I'll reserve judgment. He is man-pretty though.”

“Hmm hmm,” Alina agreed, thinking about Ben Barnes in a three piece suite. “And don't forget his sexy British accent.”

“I am not liking the General Kirigan thing though. I'm the Darkling, damn it.”

Alina mulled his words. “Well, I think they did that because the Darkling as a title works in a book because you're _reading_ it but imagine characters on screen saying it multiple times _out loud. 'Oh no, the Darkling is on his way! 'Look out, the Darkling is behind you!'_ Eventually it's going to start sounding like the Darling or the Duckling.”

“Yes, I can see how that would get silly really fast,” the Duckling admitted. Er, Darkling.

They stopped outside of Baghra's hut.

“Farewell, Alina. We will never again be on this good of terms.”

Alina nodded. “I know, I've read ahead, remember?”

“Indeed.”

She looked longingly at his beautiful face. “Are you sure you don't want to...?”

“Positive.”

She nodded. “Okey dokey.”

“Hit me up after your hair turns white. I haven't the foggiest idea why, but it instantly makes you a thousand times more attractive. But I've always had a Daenerys fantasy.”

Alina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course it does. Did you forget our previous conversation? Stupid fantasy tropes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Boy, this is all going so well, with the hiding and running away for three whole books,” Alina observed. “The Darkling should be here any minute and then we can scamper away while he's all 'Drat! Foiled again!' like some Scooby Doo villain.”
> 
> Suddenly, the Darkling appeared. Redshirt, er, Harshaw, is ripped apart by monsters. The Scooby gang starts to run. 
> 
> “Drat! Foiled again!” said the Darkling.
> 
> “Wait,” said Nikolai. “This all feels a little too familiar. Haven't we done this like four times already?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written with love.
> 
> Thanks for indulging me.
> 
> Apologies to liberal art majors.

Scene: Nikolai's hideout in R&R. Alina, Mal, Nikolai, Genya, Zoya, David and the tertiary characters milled around uncertainly.

“Boy, this is all going so well, with the hiding and running away for three whole books,” Alina observed. “The Darkling should be here any minute and then we can scamper away while he's all 'Drat! Foiled again!' like some Scooby Doo villain.”

Suddenly, the Darkling appeared. Redshirt, er, Harshaw, is ripped apart by monsters. The Scooby gang starts to run.

“Drat! Foiled again!” said the Darkling.

“Wait,” said Nikolai. “This all feels a little too familiar. Haven't we done this like four times already?”

The Darkling shrugged. “At least. I'm just here to be devastatingly sexy and terrible. Oh, and to brood over the rejection of a teenage girl. Epic cock block, Mom,” the Darkling called down the hall.

“Cram it, boy! I'm listening to a pod cast,” Baghra called from somewhere off set. “Since I can't _watch_ my shows anymore, thanks to your ungrateful ass.”

The Darkling turned his attention back to Alina. “Really, this is who I'm suppose to be obsessed with? Saints, have you ever even tried to have a conversation with a seventeen year old girl? After thirty seconds, you'll want to gouge your own eyes out.”

“While we're pointing out the obvious,” Nikolai said, “I seriously don't understand the power hierarchy here. How is he,” Nikolai pointed to the Darkling “with his overgrown shadow puppets– ”

“Hey,” said the Darkling, offended.

“More powerful than someone who can explode your heart in your chest or call lightning down from the sky?”

“I summon shadows,” said the Darkling defensively. “That's scary.”

“No, it's really not,” said Nikolai. “The creepy monsters that tear people apart are scary but you didn't start that shit until the second book. Prior to that, you just wreathed people's heads in shadow and acted like a human Clapper as a party trick.”

“What?” They all said in unison.

“You know, the Clapper?” said an exasperated Nikolai. “That old commercial advertising a light switch for really lazy or really old people?”

Everyone continued to look confused.

“It went like this... 'Clap on!” Nikolai clapped his hands twice. “Clap off!” He clapped again. “The Clapper! Does no one remember that?”

Nikolai shook his head in disgust at their blank looks. “Damn Gen Z.”

“Actually,” said the Darkling, deep in thought, “My power does work exactly like that.”

“How _do_ you summon darkness?” David asked suddenly, hand to his chin. “It's not actually a thing, you know. It's just an absence of light.”

“Maybe that's the point?” the Darkling offered. “I'm the empty vase. Or it was a fairly literal interpretation of the 'Dark Side?'” The Darkling shrugged indifferently.

“Hey, this is my story arc,” said Alina. “I don't understand my powers either. I mean, good god, light is energy. I should have been blowing shit up or frying it for three books. Or at least forged some kind of weapon made of light. Like a sabre of light,” she nodded her head in excitement. “Yes, dare I say, a lightsab–” She was abruptly shushed by the other characters.

“Quiet, you want to get sued, girl?” Zoya asked irritably.

“I just don't understand why like three paragraphs were devoted to these stupid gloves,” Alina said, holding up her black gloves lined with hidden mirrors. “Why the hell did I need tiny mirrors? Why couldn't I have just shot individual photons into someone's eyes? And what about the light spectrum? I could have manipulated different wavelengths of light and made more shit disappear, change color...or made a freaking laser!”

“Yeah,” said David. “Can you harness microwaves or gamma rays? Cuz that's light. And that would have been really cool.”

Alina made a frustrated sound. “Just the visible light spectrum. I think.”

“Oh, and another thing,” David said, snapping his fingers. “Don't forget the heat energy of summoning the sun's light. What happens to it? I mean, after you got the first amplifier, I thought you were gonna melt everyone's face off à la Raiders of the Lost Ark but that didn't happen for some reason,” David said, sounding disappointed.

“I melted some snow,” Alina offered.

“Meh.” Nikolai shrugged. “That's what you get when your author is a liberal art major. Want more STEM? Go knock on Julie Czerneda's door.”

“Yeah,” added Zoya. “You're really gonna complain a YA novel didn't go into the specifics of radiant energy?”

“Okay, guys, lets just all agree that the magic in these books is a little weird and nebulous and move on,” said Mal. “I'm pretty sure the whole point was he's darkness, she's light, blah, blah. YA books aren't known for their subtlety and ambiguity.”

“Right,” said the Darkling. “Lets get back on track. I have to go give amazing head in a fan fic in about 15 minutes.”

“Alina,” Mal said, looking stricken “Did you and he ever...?”

“Wha?” Alina pulled her tongue out of the Darkling's mouth, her body still plastered against his, one hand in his silky black hair, the other grasping his perfect ass.

“Sorry, sorry...we have that stupid bond, tether, whatever you want to call it...but it's you that I love,” Alina said and threw her arms around Mal's neck. She gave him a peck on the lips, peppering his face with chaste butterfly kisses while keeping three feet of space between her pelvis and his at all times.

“Really?” said Genya. “Is that why you're embracing him like you would a creepy coworker?”

“That's a good point,” said the Darkling. “I always wondered why you two weren't all over each other. I mean, you're teenagers. You should have been feeling each other up in a cold, wet ditch, not making excuses that the timing wasn't right.”

“Shut up!” Mal said sternly. “Our love is pure, simple and not erotic, as God intended. It's the love of Eskimo kisses and intense hand holding. Now, did you and he ever...” He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

Alina looked everywhere but in Mal's eyes. “Just kissing, but there was that one time he was grinding me against a door, with my skirt up around my waist–”

Mal ran out of the room with his fingers in his ears, yelling “La la la la!”

Light of her life no longer visible, Alina became frantic. “Mal! Where's Mal? MAL!!”

“MalMalMalMalMal!!!” Alina cried desperately. This went on for 18 minutes.

“Her?” said the Darkling, doing his best Michael Bluth impression.

“Relax, Alina,” Mal said, entering the scene holding a turkey sandwich. “I was just at the craft service table.” Mal glared at the Darkling. “Why does he get all the sexy fan fics? He's _evil.”_

“Hmm?” said the Darkling as he drowned a kitten and curb stomped a puppy.

“Did anyone not see what just happened?” Mal yelled, gesturing wildly.

Thousands of readers gave an indifferent shrug. “Still sexy,” came the chorus. “And misunderstood.”

“He cut out his own mother's eyes! He fucked up that hotness,” Mal said, pointing at Genya. “He embodies every abusive trope! He tried to isolate Alina, blamed _her_ when he did horrible things. He's evil!”

“But you were a whiny douche in Seige and Storm, so fuck you, otkazat’sya!” a 14 year old girl shouted.

“Hey, lay off,” Mal said miserably. “What do you people expect from me? Seriously, my only story lines have involved tracking or Fight Club. Maybe if I'd been given even half of his dialogue–” he nodded at Nikolai, “fans would regard me with something other than blistering hatred or searing indifference.”

“Yeah, it's not his fault he's the literary equivalent of Wonder Bread,” Alina said, coming to his defense.

“Maybe if he had the Darkling's face, body, voice, or manners he'd be sexy, too,” she added helpfully.

“Thanks, babe,” Mal said dryly.

“Mal, my One True Love,” she said and strode over to stand in front of him.

“All I ever wanted was for you to look at me the way you're looking at that turkey sandwich,” Alina said earnestly. “And I want the readers to know that if the guy you're pining for doesn't even notice you're alive, keep waiting. Forever, if needed. He'll definitely notice you when you become more attractive and draw the attention of someone else. And it certainly doesn't hurt to go platinum.” She pointed to her white hair.

“Saints, that's the message you want to send to young women?” Nikolai looked incredulous.

“Whatever, over half of our readers are women in the 24-44 age demographic. Who then go on to work out their sexual frustrations in surprisingly graphic fan fics,” Alina said.

But the characters were clearly missing the point of the series, which is that it's fine, preferable and even expected for a woman to make herself weaker and lesser for the man she loves, to set aside her own ambitions and play house to a bunch of wild eyed, snot nose kids.

“Oh Saints,” said Alina. “Spare me your feminist lit crit, now who's the liberal art major?” (DISCLAIMER: Parody author is not. HOW DARE YOU.)

“Yeah,” said Mal. “She's a freaking war orphan–she doesn't want power or glory, she wants home which is spelled M-A-L, y'all. And I'm pretty sure the point of the series was more that power corrupts, the Darkling is a mirror and do you really want to end up a hot-girl-destroying, mom-eye-gouging grade A asshat like him?” He gestured at the Darkling again.

“Hmmph,” said the Darkling, well and truly offended now. “Quick, someone start a fire so I can stare broodingly into the depths of the flames.”

“Well, we had an inferni but you killed him,” David said.

“Oh, well, put us in an ocean scene then. I can also brood whilst staring into the unfathomable depths of the sea.”

Not gonna happen.

The Darkling crossed his arms over his chest, in the middle of a world class sulk.

“Oh, he gets like this,” Baghra called from down the hall. “Just give him his sippy cup, I always just put kvas in it.”

The other characters exchanged meaningful looks.

“What?” Baghra said, defensive over their silence. “He turned out fine.”

“Well, lets get on with it. Alina, go ahead and stab the only two men who have ever been attracted to you,” Zoya instructed, stifling a yawn.

The other characters looked at Alina expectantly but it was Nikolai that spoke.

“Saints, I'm sick of the fighting. I'm a lover, not a fighter. And I've got to rest up for my solo adventure.” He strode over to the still pouting Darkling.

The Darkling glared at him resentfully. “Why do _you_ get your own duology? I'm the most popular character.”

Nikolai shrugged. “Maybe you should have spent more time cultivating a rakish air and less time mutilating women.”

“Oh, so blinding my own mother, lying to and manipulating a teen girl 1/40th my age, threatening to torture and kill her boyfriend, torturing and disfiguring her best friend, and then murdering the only mother she's ever known just to prove a point makes me the bad guy? Fine, make me your villain,” said the Darkling, his bottom lip trembling as he blinked back tears.

Nikolai stared at him for a moment. “Saints, when you list it all out loud like that....but you're right, you and I are the best characters.” Nikolai held out his hand to the Darkling. “What do you say, tall, dark and handsome?”

The Darkling regarded him for a second before shrugging. “Why not? Despite the fact that you never shut up, you're still less annoying than a high school girl.” They walked out of the scene arm in arm.

“Hey guys! Wait for me,” Zoya cried, running after them. “Have you ever heard of a 'Devil's Triangle?” Her voice trailed off as she followed them down the hall.

Suddenly thirty-five year old Alina appeared, having time traveled from the future.

“You,” she said, walking over to stand squarely in front of present day Alina, “will forever regret not railing the bad boy.”

“Really?” present day Alina asked, casting a furtive glance at the door the Darkling had just disappeared through.

“Uh, yeah. Especially when this one,” she pointed an accusing finger at Mal, “can't even be bothered to pick up his goddamn socks. And would it kill you to put down your stupid phone and help me get the kids ready in the morning –” Mal froze, turkey sandwich half way to his mouth.

Alina had heard enough. “Aleksander, wait!”

Mal gave her a betrayed look. “Alina!”

“It's fine, Mal. I'll be back before dinner.” She ran out after the Darkling, “Hey! Guys, wait up! Do you know what a London Bridge is?” She could be heard asking in the hall.

“I've heard of a Devil's Triangle, but what the hell is a London Bridge?” asked an obviously bemused David.

“Oh, it's for four people,” Genya said automatically. “Two girls—or guys– on their hands and knees and—I mean, how would I know,” she finished lamely, looking away from David's astonished face.

“I need to get out of the lab more,” he said.

They could hear the Darkling's muffled voice from the hallway. “I know what I said earlier, but persuant to the sex act you just requested and also for the joke I'm going to make in a few minutes, I really would prefer you sign this affidavit stating that you are indeed eighteen years of age.”

“Hey, I am seventeen but this is 19th century Russia so it's like a hard thirty, okay?” Alina replied, voice fading as they moved down the hall.

Mal was thinking about the craft service table again. “More for me, I guess:” He took a big bite of his sandwich.

“Hey, slow down, bud,” David said in concern.

But Mal, desperately sick of picked herring, continued to wolf down his sandwich. Suddenly Mal grabbed his throat and started coughing uproariously.

Fans squealed in delight.

“I'm okay, everyone,” he forced out between coughs, pounding his chest.

Groans of disappointment echoed throughout Ravka.

“Hold up,” said the Darkling, running back into the scene. He was shirtless and breathing hard, trying to button his pants. Sweat gleamed off the chiseled muscles of his pale chest, his pants hung tantalizingly low on his narrow hips. He ignored the sighs and heavy breathing from the fan base. “Am I too late to taunt Mal with the requisite joke about Alina choking on my— ”

“YES,” everyone said in unison.

“Fuck me,” the Darkling muttered and spun on his heel, flouncing out of the scene in a big sexy huff.

But the Darkling's poor comedic timing was not the only tragedy to befall Ravka that day. Malyen Oretsev, the finest tracker—is that even a thing?—the world had ever known, was dead.

“What?” Mal said.

Indeed, to the utter pleasure of a disturbingly large portion of the fan base, Mal died that day.

“No, I didn't.”

No, he was definitely dead. Death by dry turkey sandwich.

“Seriously, guys, I'm right here.”

Nope. Dead.

The other characters paused and looked around, waiting for someone to step forward and say a few kind words. No one spoke. Everyone turned to stare at future Alina but she only shrugged. The silence went on for an uncomfortably long time. Suddenly, a voice rang out in the stillness.

_Finally,_ Mal thought hopefully. Someone was going to eulogize him. But it was just the the Darkling's alluring voice.

“Damn it, Nikolai, before I agreed to this, I said _no eye contact.”_

And Mal was still dead. For real.

No, just kidding. It was actually the Darkling that died that day. The fan base got a hold of him and you can guess what happened next. Yes, indeed, he was fucked to death although the exact cause of death was unknown. It was either dehydration, exhaustion or the crushed pelvis that caused his untimely demise, no one was sure.

Mal, Nikolai and David stood over his black casket solemnly.

A single tear rolled down Nikolai's face. “Lucky bastard,” he whispered.

“What?” Zoya whispered back. “How was that lucky? He's dead!”

“It's how every man wants to go out,” explained Nikolai.

“O Captain! My Captain!” Mal began, hand over his heart. Nikolai and David followed suit.

Alina dabbed at her eyes delicately with a tissue. “He really was a giver. The fan fics were right.

Saints, they just kept coming and coming.”

“Do you mean that there were a lot of them or...” David asked.

“Both!” she wailed.

Future Alina sniffed miserably. “I tried to tell him, 'No, pace yourself.' But he insisted he couldn't just let the sexual frustrations of several thousand women who have been with men that watch too much porn continue.”

“O Captain! My Captain!” but it was Zoya this time.

“Saints, would you believe a guy actually spit on me once? Like down there?” Genya said to Zoya.

“I believe it,” said Zoya grimly. “Did he then proceed to ignore your clit, jack hammer your pelvis for a half hour and then complain that you didn't come?”

“Oh, you slept with Ivan, too, huh?”

“The Darkling said to me, 'Do you have any idea how many men think porn is a sincere window into sex?'” Future Alina whispered and broke into sobs.

“It's not?” David asked in confusion. Genya made a disgusted sound.

“Men should watch less porn and read more fan fiction. WOMEN LIKE GETTING ORAL!” Genya said through a megaphone that had suddenly appeared.

“Okay, guys, let's wrap this up,” Mal said, clapping his hands.

“Yeah, yeah, you've been trying to move the story along for a while,” Alina said.

“No, I mean this parody. Good god, when does it end?”

“Yeah, I guess it is just kind of dragging on,” said Nikolai. (DISCLAIMER: Ask any satire/comedy writer-- the ending is the hardest damn thing to come up with. It's why so many sketches end in inanity or mass death.)

OKAY FINE. THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
